tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75262374756320168132017-09-24T18:40:06.617+10:00mulch musicA blog dedicated not entirely to all things music.Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-79978650191293585762017-09-02T14:40:00.001+10:002017-09-02T14:47:14.153+10:00The Album Show<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fLP7p1W3tr8/WaozFNZVLMI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nP0b241tJIYTLqPa85JOlSxILSvfS96EwCLcBGAs/s1600/Album%2BImage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img alt="Hosted by Jeff Cullen, The Album Show is on 88.6 Plenty Valley FM Sundays at 10pm - streaming on www.pvfm.org.au" border="0" data-original-height="319" data-original-width="480" height="212" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fLP7p1W3tr8/WaozFNZVLMI/AAAAAAAAAHY/nP0b241tJIYTLqPa85JOlSxILSvfS96EwCLcBGAs/s320/Album%2BImage.jpg" title="The Album Show" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Album Show - complete albums with no interrruptions</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: white;">Relive the magic of listening to albums in full, without interruptions. It's the way they were meant to be heard, the way they were meant to be experienced; track by track, end to end.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="color: white;"><br /></span><span style="color: white;">The Album Show aims to recreate those moments, where you totally immerse yourself into the album, the way the artists intended you to hear them.</span></div><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span><span style="color: white;">Hosted by Jeff Cullen, The Album Show airs each Sunday night at 10pm on <a href="http://www.pvfm.org.au/">88.6 Plenty Valley FM</a>. You can stream it live on www.pvfm.org.au or download the podcast.</span></span><br /><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span><span style="color: white;">"Audience participation is very important to me," said Jeff. The idea for the show generated from audience feedback. "Listeners were excited when I occasionally played albums in full on other shows that I have hosted. No other stations were dedicating time for full albums," Jeff said. Playing the albums complete, as they were intended resonated strongly with listeners. And so, the idea for The Album Show was born.</span></span><br /><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span><span style="color: white;">Through social media, participation with the audience allows sharing of albums and comments between each other as well as Jeff. He includes examples and comments from listeners in his playlist and acknowledges them on air.</span></span><br /><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span><span style="color: white;">"Remember the joy of hearing a great album and sharing it with your friends? That's what The Album Show is all about," said Jeff. "We're all just a community of fans sharing our albums, and hopefully finding something new and exciting."</span></span><br /><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span><span style="color: white;">The "From First To Last" segment asks the audience for the first album they bought, the best album they bought, and the last album they bought. And the results are fascinating. Jeff laughs. " Ha! From The Bay City Rollers, to Cheech And Chong, to Frank Zappa, they reflect not only the personal journey of the listener, but the diversity of the audience in general."</span></span><br /><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span><span style="color: white;">Depending on the length of the albums, the show runs for around two hours. This usually allows for two complete albums, and selected tracks and facts about noteworthy albums. Occasionally, you'll hear three albums. And from time to time, there are special events such as double live albums and all night album marathons.</span></span><br /><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span><span style="color: white;">The engagement with the audience continues on social media, with extended content, such as new album releases, album and artist facts, along with information about the current vinyl revival. The audience are invited to participate with comments and feedback on their own classic album collection. On Facebook you can search for @albumshow and Plenty Valley FM with @88.6plentyvalleyfm. On Twitter look for @show_album and on Instagram you can search for @albumshow.</span></span><br /><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span><span style="color: white;">And what are Jeff's selctions for the From First To Last segment?</span></span><br /><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span><span style="color: white;">"My first album owned is Los Cochinos by Cheech And Chong. Of course, it contains the classic song, Basketball Jones. One of my favourite pieces of trivia is the excellent guitar work on that track provided by the legendary George Harrison," Jeff says with a smile. He continues, "It gets a little bit harder to pick just one Best Album, but I'm happy to bring out Crime Of The Century by Supertramp. Just the eight tracks but each one absolutely essential to the album and I never skip any tracks. That's the sign of a great album." And the last album purchased? "This album kills two birds with one stone. I also do a segment called Bargain Bin Beauties, which are your favourite albums that you purchased for under ten dollars. The last album I bought was Love And Hate by Michael Kiwanuka, a UK artist. This album contains one of the best songs I have heard in years, a ten minute epic called Cold Little Heart. It's beautiful," he said.</span></span><br /><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span><span style="color: white;">You can contact Jeff by email on pvfmalbumshow@gmail.com and let him know your From First To Last list, or just suggest a classic album. He'd love to hear from you.</span></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br />Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-69858155465451792502011-08-07T00:05:00.001+10:002011-08-07T00:09:06.128+10:00Playlist: Pleasant Valley Sunday Breakfast August 7th 2011Tune into 88.6 Plenty Valley FM for The Pleasant Valley Sunday Breakfast from 6.00 am - 8.00 am AEST.<br /><br />This is the playlist for August 7th:<br /><br /><span style="color: red;">WISH YOU WERE HERE</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- PINK FLOYD</span> <br /><span style="color: red;">SPACE ODDITY</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- DAVID BOWIE</span> <br /><span style="color: red;">TWO OF US</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- SUPERTRAMP </span><br /><span style="color: red;">COUNTY FAIR</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- VAN MORRISON</span> <br /><span style="color: red;">WICKED GAME</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- CHRIS ISAAK</span><br /><span style="color: red;">TIME IN A BOTTLE</span><span style="color: yellow;"> - JIM CROCE </span><br /><span style="color: red;">LOVE GROWING OLD</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- WAGONS</span> <br /><span style="color: red;">LAND RIGHTS</span><span style="color: yellow;"> - XAVIER RUDD</span> <br /><span style="color: red;">NO APHRODISIAC</span><span style="color: yellow;"> - THE WHITLAMS</span> <br /><span style="color: red;">SLIPPIN’ AWAY</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- MAX MERRITT</span> <br /><span style="color: red;">DUNMORE LASSIES</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- RY COODER/ THE CHIEFTAINS</span> <br /><span style="color: red;">UNDER THE CLOCKS</span><span style="color: yellow;"> - WEDDINGS, PARTIES, ANYTHING</span><br /><span style="color: red;">A MAN IS IN LOVE</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- THE WATERBOYS</span><br /><span style="color: red;">DON’T LETY US GET SICK</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- WARREN ZEVON</span><br /><span style="color: red;">ROCK &amp; ROLL</span><span style="color: yellow;"> - ERIC HUTCHINSON </span><br /><span style="color: red;">AINT TELLING THE TRUTH</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- BLUEJUICE</span> <br /><span style="color: red;">MY SWEET LORD</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- GEORGE HARRISON</span> <br /><span style="color: red;">CHINESE CHECKERS</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- STEVE POLTZ </span><br /><span style="color: red;">CAN’T AFFORD NO SHOES</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- FRANK ZAPPA AND THE MOTHERS</span> <br /><span style="color: red;">KUNG FU FIGHTING</span><span style="color: yellow;"> - CARL DOUGLAS </span><br /><span style="color: red;">BURY ME DEEP IN LOVE</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- THE TRIFFIDS </span><br /><span style="color: red;">IS IT LIKE TODAY?</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- WORLD PARTY </span><br /><span style="color: red;">A SONG FOR YOU</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- WHISKEYTOWN</span><br /><span style="color: red;">NED KELLY’S TUNES</span> <span style="color: yellow;">- THE BUSHWACKERS</span> <br /><br /><span style="color: yellow;"><strong>streaming live on <a href="http://www.pvfm.org.au/"><span style="color: red;">www.pvfm.org.au</span></a></strong></span>Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-10885254278098865392011-06-23T08:03:00.001+10:002011-06-23T08:07:07.118+10:00Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Lay In Bed On A Sunday...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iyQ98N5_kYo/TgJiC1OjSKI/AAAAAAAAAFo/c-0cyfprbVo/s1600/pvfmbrekkyjaws.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400px" i$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iyQ98N5_kYo/TgJiC1OjSKI/AAAAAAAAAFo/c-0cyfprbVo/s400/pvfmbrekkyjaws.bmp" width="300px" /></a></div>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Mulch Music On The Radio - June 26th<br /><br />That's right, folks... Don't touch that dial. You can now listen to me live on the radio every Sunday morning at 6.00 am (AEST) until 8.00 am on your local station <span style="color: yellow;"><strong>88.6 Plenty Valley FM</strong></span> with&nbsp;my brand new show <span style="color: red;"><strong>Pleasant Valley Sunday Breakfast.</strong></span> Join me for the premiere June 26th at 6.00 am. Sure, it's early, but what else have you got planned? Sleep?<br /><br />You can also listen through live streaming over the internet - <a href="http://www.pvfm.org.au/"><strong>www.pvfm.org.au</strong></a><br /><br />Artists included on the first show are:<br /><br />Joe Strummer, Johnny Cash, The Blackeyed Susans, The Chieftains, Cousteau, Paul Kelly, Big Star, Radiohead, Christy Moore, Ryan Adams, Bap Kennedy, Cowboy Junkies, along with a feature on Gordon Lightfoot.<br /><br />Let me know you're listening, or send me a request or comment at: <a href="mailto:mulchmusic@gmail.com"><strong>mulchmusic@gmail.com</strong></a>Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-77170973249593958402011-06-16T20:00:00.001+10:002011-06-16T20:02:17.296+10:00Happy 50th, Dino<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H6E-WpORzew/TfnTWOcH_XI/AAAAAAAAAFk/GMeEWYLGCN0/s1600/110_2345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200px" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H6E-WpORzew/TfnTWOcH_XI/AAAAAAAAAFk/GMeEWYLGCN0/s200/110_2345.JPG" t8="true" width="150px" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My brother in law Dino turns 50 today. He is as much a brother to me as my flesh and blood brothers. He passed away just over a year ago. And not a day goes by that I don’t think about him. I miss him a great deal.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We had a few shared interests. Not a small part of which was marrying sisters, and becoming ‘The Outlaws’ in a large extended family. It seems like yesterday that, after saying goodnight to the sisters we dated,&nbsp;we would sit in his beat up Datsun, and talk about them, and their brothers, whilst we listened to some terrible Love Songs&nbsp;And Dedications radio show. Since then, we spent the best part of three decades fishing, drinking, watching footy, raising kids,&nbsp;camping, playing cards, disagreeing, and laughing. Laughing a lot. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And music has always played a big role in our shared experiences. In a way, Dino is responsible for me having a reasonably large collection of music. I hate to be caught out and fail at being able to play a request for someone. Being the second youngest of six, when my brothers and sisters left home, so did the majority of my music collection. By the time I was married, I had about five good years worth of my own music, but had not gone back and purchased the back catalogue of my youth. In Dino’s words, “Gee you’ve got a shit record collection.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I vowed from that day on to build a worthy collection of music, beginning from the music I grew up with. That still continues today. Thanks, mate.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dino and I didn’t agree on everything when it came to music, but we did come together on some important pieces. He could never understand my passion for The Mothers Of Invention. I didn’t appreciate his love of The Highwaymen, although I did like some of their solo work, especially Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. We both really liked Gordon Lightfoot, and I treasure those Saturday nights spent listening to his love worn copy of Gord’s Gold. And then followed by Neil Diamond’s Hot August Night.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We both liked The Bushwackers – the more Australiana the better for Dino, where my preferences leant more towards the Irish background of bush, being a Pogues fan. Dino took a while to warm to The Pogues, but when he did, he basically took ownership of Dirty Old Town as his song. And although he wouldn’t be considered a fan of Leonard Cohen, he never complained when we played him, or banged on about his lyrics around campfires.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We both knew of Randy Newman and Ry Cooder, but it was out extended brothers that brought them to the fore. If a night didn’t end with Famous Blue Raincoat or Fairytale Of New York, then it would definitely end with Rednecks, Political Science, or the classic drunkard’s song, Yellow Roses (“Wait for the intro...!”). Usually it would be all five... And on some occasions, that would actually be the start, not the end, of a very, very late session.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We all loved listening to Bob Dylan, Billy Joel, Jimmy Buffett, Neil Young, Simon And Garfunkel, The Band, Creedence Clearwater Revival, and Jim Croce, just to name a few. Above all, Dino was a fan of good company, and good music to make a good night of it. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dino had a very interesting record collection. I was very impressed with his older records that didn’t get played as much anymore, yet, were obviously still treasured. As laid back and relaxed as we were listening to more country oriented rock, we could still appreciate the early works of Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd and Alice Cooper. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The music we have shared really has been the soundtrack of our lives. Having a barbecue and listening to American Graffiti Soundtrack through the thick smoke of a flue that never ever worked. Fast forward to Kevington and Like A Hurricane as we enjoyed cold beers from stolen stubbie holders. Fast forward once more to Badger Creek, or Warburton, and listen Van Morrison accompanying the swish of a breeze through the trees, or the gentle sound of the river rolling along.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As Dino fought a brave battle against the cancer that would eventually take his life, we still had time for music. I tried to make playlists of the music he liked as the brothers all travelled first to Thornton, then Seymour and Yea, and eventually our final journey through Tasmania (“How many old houses and trees can a person look at?!”). Desperadoes Waiting For A Train. It was a sad time. It was a time that came and went far too quickly.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I listen to Somewhere Over The Rainbow by Billy Thorpe, I wonder if one day we’ll all meet up again. And if Heaven exists, I imagine it’s an eternal journey through your favourite places with the people you love. Dino’s wry smile and a roll of the eyes as we make “just a quick stop” to enjoy an ice cold beer and a game of pool at the Alexandra Pub. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>A moment of reflection around a campfire at Lake Eildon. The thrill of a winning bet on an unknown horse at Yea Picnic races. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>The beauty of sunrise and moonlight over the Derwent River. Home, and firing up the barbecue for family and friends.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Happy 50th Birthday, Dino. RIP.</span></span></div>Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-51721367124739377652011-06-15T22:51:00.002+10:002011-06-16T11:30:48.728+10:00Old Man by Neil Young<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/DZtJqDIom5Q?feature=player_embedded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div><br />When Neil Young released Harvest in 1972 it was met with quite a lot of indifference, to put it mildly. Fans, who appreciated his constantly changing musical persona, got on board, as opposed to the critics, who rated it as quaint, at best, and complete rubbish at worst. Young has never released anything in response to what he was expected to by either fans or critics. By the time one album was released, he was already deeply immersed in folk, screeching electric rock, country, or what would eventually be called grunge.<br /><br /><br />The song Old Man now has a place amongst the best of Young’s work, and is one of several excellent tracks on the album. Harvest, Out On The Weekend, and Heart Of Gold are all brilliant compositions, and help create a unified theme and texture on the album. But, Old Man is the track that I play most, and extracts a greater emotional response.<br /><br />Old man is one of those unique songs that allows for multiple interpretations and responses that shift and grow with the passage of time. With age and experience, we gain a deeper appreciation of the perspective of both the singer and the subject. <br /><br />Many observers thought the song to be Young’s appraisal of his relationship with his estranged father. However, it has been confirmed by Young that the inspiration for the song was the old ranch manager on Young’s farm. But, could the same song have been written if Neil Young had a different upbringing? Clearly, his relationship with his father, even subconsciously, has influenced the choice of words, and style of music.<br /><br />Regardless of the subject, the themes resonate strongly across a broad spectrum. If confesses&nbsp;all the fears and hopes of us as young men, a few years into adulthood, and all the promises and regrets that go with it. As we slide through our thirties, there is a dual appreciation of each perspective. Not siding with either but having a greater understanding of both. And finally, when approaching fifty, especially with a son around twenty four, there is a clear bond with the Old Man. Never losing sight of what the song meant when first heard, it grows in meaning and depth with each passing year.<br /><br />It is a tribute to Neil Young’s song-writing ability to produce a work of art so mature, so complex, and so dynamic. And even though he has a huge repertoire of songs just as impressive, this one piece alone places him equally alongside other modern poetic masters, like Cohen, Dylan, Lennon&nbsp;and McCartney, and Springsteen.<br /><br />The conviction of Neil Young’s cross-generational conversation rings true with each word sung, and each note played. It is such a beautifully sad and sweet piece of music. Hear the young man pleading for a chance to be heard. Feel the old man pleading for a chance to shake his younger self to listen.<br /><br />Old Man is a timeless song that you can return to again and again. It’s like a good friend that you comfortably and dependably grow old with. And if you can, you should introduce the Old Man to a younger person and keep sharing the wisdom.Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-85501164065723716132011-03-02T21:21:00.002+11:002011-03-09T23:23:57.222+11:00Sail Away by Randy Newman<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://0.gvt0.com/vi/uwwhHI_IMog/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uwwhHI_IMog&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uwwhHI_IMog&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div><div align="center">﻿</div><br />Randy Newman is the master of subversive, social comment, often hidden behind delightful and misleading melodies. It would be easy to discuss the brilliant, but obvious, tunes like Short People, Rednecks, or the prescient Political Science. However, Sail Away remains a perfect example of all that is Newmanesque.<br /><br />Newman is deftly able to cast a spotlight on the hypocrisy that allows systematic inequality to take a foothold and thrive in modern society. Don't be fooled by the humour and the light and breezy tone, or the romantic southern composition that could have easily sat with one of his father's film scores. This is a dark piece.<br /><br />Like Zappa before him, and Eminem after him, Newman turns the table on both overt bigotry and condescending enlightenment. He highlights the absurdity of the argument by framing the story from the oppressor's perspective. It is a bold, and sometimes contentious approach, and Newman is by far the best at it. So much so that he has received a considerable amount of uneducated criticism from the very people who <br />should be shouting his praises.<br /><br />The furore surrounding Short People was ridiculous. The very same people who were outraged by the 'treatment' of short people were noticeable by their absence during civil rights protests, or any number of famous racial discrimination cases. Those calling for the boycott of Newman's music were, and remain, strangely quiet when 'short people' is replaced with 'black' or 'yellow' or 'red' and so on. In Rednecks, no-one is spared, from the easy targets of racist southern stereotypes to complacent, condescending liberals of the north.<br /><br />Sail Away is Newman at his best. Sung from the perspective of the slave trader it plays almost like an advertising jingle to entice voluntary migration from The Jungle to The New World - "A Brave New World awaits those eager to embrace the values of the USA!" It's great to be an American! Sail away. Freedom. Everyone is free to take care of his home and his family...<br /><br />Sail away is not just about the shame and disgrace that was organised slavery in America. It strikes a chord still resonant today as it was at the time of recording in 1973. Consider these facts: African Americans account for around 12% of the population yet take up around 40% of prison populations. An African American male is about five times more likely to be incarcerated than a white American. The ratio between black and white inmates on death row is 3:1 in favour of whites. Split by race, African Americans represent the lowest average household income in the United States, along with the lowest rate of home ownership. <br /><br />"You'll just sing about Jesus and drink wine all day. It's great to be an American..."<br /><br />It is the stark contrast between history as we know it and the chilling perspective of the slave trader that provokes and prods the listener. It&nbsp;keeps the message of the song so vivid and strong decades after it was written.Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-24538147570214956342011-03-01T19:37:00.001+11:002011-03-01T21:46:05.360+11:00Hotel California by The Eagles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/1ygI3BZxdCY?feature=player_embedded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div><div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">﻿</div><br />The Eagles have been often misunderstood, misrepresented and much maligned over the years. Most of that criticism has been undeserved. The album Hotel California remains a milestone record of the 1970's. It is a coded documentary of the times. Sadly, much of it is lost on the audience it laments.<br /><br />As the exploits of the rock gods in the 60's became more public, they moved from shocking news, to entertainment pieces, to finally an expectation of the stereotype. It's not that they were different from<br />their jazz, blues, and rock 'n' roll colleagues of the 40's and 50's. It's just that the excesses became more public - to the point where it became part of their brand. What was hidden from the public in previous decades was now actively marketed to them. By the mid 1970's, the excesses of the rock and roll lifestyle were so ingrained in the culture, the only eyebrows raised were to those who did not over-indulge.<br /><br />Enter The Eagles. Riding high on the crest of a successful wave, they wiped out all competition before them, thrilling fans and critics alike. They could do no wrong - at least in the eyes of others.<br /><br />At some point they look in the mirror, and either don't like, or don't recognise who they see. Lost, they look at each other and their surrounds; strangers in a strange land. Now excess equates to less. Everything is nothing. What is the point of doing anything when no sensation registers at all? They have become uncomfortably numb.<br /><br />Hotel California is a triumphant statement about California in the mid 70's and the wider American psyche. Hotel California is like a documentary on a life fuelled by excess retold in metaphors and allegory. And with Joe Walsh joining the line-up, the band finally had enough balls in the sound for the music to match the words. The result is a very dark, sometimes Gothic record. <br /><br />The one problem with a record of this style is that it can be too sophisticated for its own good. With audiences unfamiliar with the approach or unwilling to explore the lyrics further, they settle for a literal interpretation. With the passing of time the misconceptions about this song have escalated from the bizarre to the absurd. <br /><br />One consistent interpretation that refuses to die is that the song is about a cult, and a hotel where that cult sacrifices people. The Eagles are practising Satan Worshippers and the Hotel California is their sacred Headquarters. Hmmm...That must be the one down on Devil-Gate Drive?<br /><br />How misguided can people be? America? Oh yeah, they sing the one about a horse. It doesn't have a name, so the rider can't tell it where to go. So they get lost. Don McLean? He sings that one about a guy who drives a Chevy. And he goes out with this girl who bakes pies. But he has to leave. But what's it got to do with the movie, dude? If it wasn't such an indictment on consumer-age literacy standards it would be laughable.<br /><br />I am sure the band found it laughable too, in the beginning. God (or the other guy) knows what they think now. They do have a sense of humour. The album supposedly features Anton LaVey in the inner sleeve photo. They play up to the myth again with the naming of the "Hell Freezes Over" tour and album. Just enough of a whiff to keep the conspiracy nuts busy as they laugh all the way to the bank.<br /><br />The song marvels as a stand alone track, a chronicle of the train wreck that was 60's idealism meeting 70's hedonism head on. However, it is best enjoyed&nbsp;as part of the complete package that is the album. <br /><br />And so there it is. In all its raw, majestic and ragged glory. If you haven't been there for a while, book yourself a stay. Hotel California -&nbsp;a great place to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there.Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-25769895291639899072011-02-17T00:06:00.004+11:002011-02-17T00:21:13.796+11:00Losing My Religion by REM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/FQ2yXWi0ppw?feature=player_embedded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div>watch the original film clip here:<br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=if-UzXIQ5vw">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=if-UzXIQ5vw</a></div><br />It’s hard to define exactly why this song is so great. How much can a video clip influence our reaction to a song? It was certainly the standout music video of the decade, and remains one of the best clips ever. Like a Hollywood Epic crammed into a few minutes, the song is both majestic in scope and acutely personal, evoking thoughts of loss and failure throughout the ages.<br /><br />Besides, who can resist a mandolin?<br /><br />In reading Peter Buck’s liner notes of this song for In Time: The Best Of REM, he said that the band members themselves sometimes do not have a full literal meaning of their songs. They connect with the feel of the song, or the collage of images that the song creates. Sometimes, all that you have is a word, or phrase that triggers an image, which provokes an emotional response in alignment with the feel of the song. <br /><br />The ambiguous lyrics of Buck and Stipe are often intentional, inviting the listener to explore their own interpretation. Some believe that the song refers to the profound guilt and remorse the singer feels about the disintegration of a relationship due to some untold wrong doing. The phrase ‘losing my religion’ is apparently a saying from the deep south of America, meaning to lose one’s temper, get extremely angry or frustrated, or to feel totally overwhelmed and helpless. This certainly does correspond to the shattered relationship interpretation. However, I still relate to this song in the ‘big-picture’ way.<br /><br />This is more than a song about one or two people. It is a song of many, of mankind, and our collective relationships. This song speaks to me about loss, regret, failure and its implications for the future on a grand scale. As Humanity splinters and cracks along the forks and cross roads, both discovered and created, this is the soundtrack that accompanies the footage of the wrong path taken. This the tune Judas was humming two thousand years ago when he and Jesus hatched their ambitious plot together. When Einstein ran from The Fat Man and a Little Boy in Manhattan, he was found cowering in the dark, clutching a compass and a violin, and whistling this tune. And in some parallel universe Stephen Hawking screams this song with rage and fury, at the difference between what is, and what could be.<br /><br />This is monumental defeat on the big stage. Whether you are facing up to the loss of a loved one, or knowing you will never face the one you love, or spending your final moments staring down the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, this is the deep sense of loss and remorse over potential unfulfilled. This is the realisation that you have nothing left. You can neither give nor receive. Everything you believed in has been proved not only to be false, but a total sham right from the start. <br /><br />Losing My Religion is one of those rare songs where everything converges and meshes correctly. A song where the lyrics, the singing, the music, and the visuals are all aligned in perfection. The story is told that Buck purchased a mandolin, which led to the melody, which lent itself to the phrasing of the chorus. Stipe then completed the lyrics in five minutes, a subconscious streaming on paper, and later recorded the vocal performance on the first take. The Indian/Renaissance video clip is visually stunning and is the secret ingredient that brings out the flavour of everything else in the song.<br /><br />When everything blends so smoothly, and fits so perfectly, well... Perhaps religion has been found.Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-37682581468400349972011-02-13T02:24:00.004+11:002011-02-13T09:54:19.716+11:00Fourteen Minutes And Fifty Two Seconds Of Fame (Almost)Recently, I entered a radio contest - 15 Minutes Of Fame, to get my chance to be a DJ. The concept seemed simple enough. The radio station was giving listeners the chance to have their fifteen minutes in the sun playing the music of their choice, with the chance to play something that hadn't been heard for a while.<br /><br />The contest asked for&nbsp;ten songs - clearly too many, but I guess they wanted to get a feel from the applicants. Most likely it was another way to gauge the demographics of the listener base.<br /><br />I thought about my selections. No, they wouldn't be a list of my top ten songs, nor just any good songs I haven't heard in a while. They needed to be unified somehow - to make a statement. <br /><br />My initial list was to tell the Rock story over the journey. There would be <span style="color: red;">Shooting Star</span> by <span style="color: yellow;">Bad Company</span>, and <span style="color: red;">Rock And Roll Aint Noise Pollution</span> by <span style="color: yellow;">AC/DC</span>, with <span style="color: red;">It's Only Rock And Roll (But I Like It)</span> by<span style="color: yellow;"> The Rolling Stones</span> followed by <span style="color: red;">Rock&nbsp;N Roll</span> by<span style="color: yellow;"> Ryan Adams</span>, and maybe finishing with <span style="color: red;">My My, Hey Hey (Out Of The Blue)</span> by <span style="color: yellow;">Neil Young</span>.<br /><br />I rejected this list. It needed to be more succint -&nbsp;fifteen minutes to be exact. And the Rock And Roll list deserved more respect than&nbsp;fifteen minutes anyway. There is at least an hour or two worth of killer tracks that should be honoured - <span style="color: red;">God Gave Rock And Roll To You, It's A Long Way To The Top (If You Wanna Rock N Roll),</span> and as they say on the ads, And Many More.<br /><br />I decided to make it about the personal journey of the listener and not the music, in under&nbsp;fifteen minutes. It's a Classic Rock station, so they're playing everything from the 60's onwards. What better way to convey a love of music, and Rock in particular than from the perspective of teen years through to middle age?<br /><br />I've been listening to the results of those fortunate enough to be selected, and they are all good songs. The problem is, most of them are already staple songs on the radio playlist. What's wrong with a bit of variety? What's wrong with a bit of exposure to alternative tastes? The other problem is they only take three songs. Three lousy songs, with time for about twenty seconds of intro for each.<br /><br />I think it is pretty obvious by now that my list has not been successful. Never mind.<br /><br /><span style="color: red;"><strong>1: Thirteen by Big Star</strong></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/pte3Jg-2Ax4?feature=player_embedded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div>Pop music begins at any age. Rock begins with your teens. Thirteen is a classic rock song, short, sharp, and complete with teenage angst and sexual frustration. You're thirteen, and you think everyone can see right through you. There are so many changes happening, and thoughts through your head, you think you might just explode. <br /><br /><strong><span style="color: yellow;">2: Seventeen by The Sex Pistols</span></strong><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/YLSc9pK-VNQ?feature=player_embedded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div>You're seventeen. You know everything, but you're not old enough to do them legally. You're bored. You're angry and frustrated. You want it all now. Parents and school didn't teach you much. Music is everything.<br /><br /><span style="color: red;"><strong>3: Eighteen by Alice Cooper</strong></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/DNF2KNcRm-U?feature=player_embedded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div>You're eighteen. You're out and about. You're a big shot, living it up. You can drink, drive, and vote. Hell, you can even get shot at or shoot someone. But you know you're not an adult yet, and you have a lot of growing up to do. Music helps you forget about everything for a while.<br /><br /><span style="color: yellow;"><strong>4: Twenty Eight by Tim Rogers &amp; The Twin Set</strong></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/60X7TUO2Db8?feature=player_embedded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div>(the video IS NOT Tim Rogers -&nbsp;I guess&nbsp;if it was more mainstream there would be a you tube video!)<br /><br />Now you're twenty eight. You're still young enough to get out, but you have some more responsibility now - the job, the loan, maybe you're even married with a kid. You look forward to getting together with your mates, but it doesn't happen as much as it used to. Your cd and record collection brings back a lot of good memories. You're still young enough to dream of being a rock star. Just.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color: red;">5: A Pirate Looks At Forty by Jimmy Buffett</span></strong><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZQGTaS0IFOs?feature=player_embedded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div>Now you're middle aged. Yes, you've made mistakes, but you've lived a good life, too. You have some regrets, but you call them lessons now. Sometimes you shake your head in disbelief at the young folk around you. Sometimes you'd like to grab the 'You' from twenty years ago by collar and say, "Wake up to yourself! Savour every moment. Stop wasting time. Life is way too short." And now you crank up the radio in the car, sitting in the driveway, when one of your favourite old songs come on the radio. Life is different now.<br /><br />Fourteen Minutes and Fifty Two seconds. Not bad...Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-90781776266733307892011-02-12T14:51:00.004+11:002011-02-12T15:09:42.920+11:00Golden Brown by The Stranglers<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/d7R7q1lSZfs?feature=player_embedded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div>Golden Brown might be about heroin, a gorgeous black woman...or toast. Take your pick. Quite possibly, it’s about one man’s infatuation with a heroin addicted, dark skinned beauty, who has the munchies for toasted muffins. Whatever meaning it has, it provides us with a perfect counterpoint to the rest of the punk movement, and its remains and offshoots.<br /><br />Who would have thought the harpsichord could be so cool?<br /><br />When most of the punks were still moaning about no future, or burning effigies of Margaret Thatcher, The Stranglers turned 180 degrees, and added some musical legitimacy to what had become a fairly predictable and boring movement.<br /><br />The Stranglers are no strangers to doing things differently. Shunned by some for being musically educated, and shunned by others for being educated in general, they defied the critics, which included a sometimes apathetic music press, and maintained a healthy and respected following well into their fifth decade.<br /><br />They were there when punk rock’s rocket launched, and rode in its wake. And they survived when that rocket turned out to be a missile and self destructed. The Stranglers had enough variance in their repertoire to be able to walk away relatively unscathed. They are one of those bands that have always been thereabouts. Whilst not leading the charge, they were always in the thick of the battle, and earned their stripes.<br /><br />With an impressive 16 original albums to their collective name, they have kept themselves in the mix with fans across all continents, which a string of hits, like Peaches, Always The Sun, and Skin Deep. All still get regular airplay some thirty years later, but none so much as Golden Brown. Whether they like it or not, it has become their signature tune. And there is nothing wrong with that.<br /><br />With numerous line ups, The Stranglers have remained true to the original punk ethos of originality and free spirit. That ethos&nbsp;became lost with the endless repetition of snarling guitar bands with three chords and a pose that pandered to an ever hungry public that devoured anything thrown at it labelled punk, and a music industry increasingly manipulated by fashionistas and consumerism. This is why Golden Brown stands proudly amongst the best punk songs of the period, and holds it’s own with the best rock songs of any period.<br /><br />Golden Brown works extremely well on many levels. As a simple listening pleasure it is magnificent. It delivers a measured balance of melancholy melody and composition, with a wistful vocal performance. In the tradition of all great songs, its meaning lies buried deliberately between the literal and the metaphorical. For those wanting to dig a bit deeper it yields further riches.<br /><br />Whether it is about addiction, or obsession, it is that desire for something, or someone, that provides so much joy and pleasure, if only temporary, that you know can only lead to pain and suffering. In the cold light of day, you know you need to stop, and move in another direction. But the heart is the trump card. The heart knows exactly what to say, those sudden persuasive whispers to the subconscious. Emotion rules the day, and the heart chips away, until Logic becomes a true believer, an ally in self deception. That’s the sad truth about obsession. As addiction strangles the life out of the addict, the addict only feels the warm embrace of the object of his desires, his one true love.<br /><br />Underlying these sinister overtones is incredibly beautiful music. The choice of harpsichord is inspired. The guitar break is understated elegance. It is very seductive and compliments the lyrics perfectly, right through to the hypnotic mantra on the fade out.<br /><br />This song may not be of much use as you face your own personal struggle, but it is one to savour when you come through the other side. It is a song to reminisce with, safe in the comfort of either victory or defeat. <br /><br />Won or lost – you have survived.Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-28275223176953083192011-01-28T19:22:00.009+11:002011-01-31T16:01:04.312+11:00Leonard Cohen At Hanging Rock: A Review (Kind Of)<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/TUJ-Syb8ynI/AAAAAAAAAEU/Z6FKbtKEBhM/s1600/P%2BKelly%2BHanging%2BRock.JPG"></a><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/TUJ9DsnYdyI/AAAAAAAAAEM/DoM5Aj9Xrbs/s1600/L%2BCohen%2BHanging%2BRock.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567149591852775202" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/TUJ9DsnYdyI/AAAAAAAAAEM/DoM5Aj9Xrbs/s320/L%2BCohen%2BHanging%2BRock.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 213px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 266px;" /></a> </div><div></div><div></div><div>Initially, we were all very much excited. Leonard Cohen was returning to Melbourne. But, after seeing him the first time at Rochford Winery, I decided not to see him in a concert hall. And then came the news; music industry guru, Michael Gudinski, had secured permission to stage a concert at the evocative Hanging Rock, near Woodend. And what a line up! Dan Sultan, Clare Bowditch, Paul Kelly, and the return of Leonard Cohen. </div><br /><div>I’m sure there were many, many people, and I suspect even Cohen himself, who thought that he would not pass this way again, in this life. About nine of us decided to go, and quickly snapped up the tickets online, as only 12000 were to go on sale. Some of our group had only seen him indoors, others in the outdoors, and some had missed him altogether. My brother in law, Joey, was happy enough to just arrive before Cohen hit the stage, but I was eager to take in the whole experience from mid afternoon into the evening, and urged everyone to get there as early as possible.</div><div><br />We planned to meet at Kilmore. Originally, we thought we’d meet at Mac’s Hotel, but quickly dismissed that idea, fearing we’d get stuck into a few drinks, and forget why we’d gone there for. My wife and I took the very pleasant, scenic High Street route to Kilmore, whilst the others had taken the Freeway and Highway. As they rolled around a bend into Kilmore, we pulled in behind them like clockwork. We were off to a good start. </div><div><br />We had agreed to meet at Hudson Park, with a view to quickly checking in and leaving en masse to Woodend. My other brother in law, Barney, knew of a way that would take us there against the heavy flow of Melbourne based traffic. But it was hot. So we had a beer. And then another. One of ladies needed to purchase some fruit or crackers, or some such thing. So we had a beer. And then another. It was a beautiful day. We talked and we laughed. And we drank. It really was a beautiful day. Somewhere in the back of our heads, a little voice was trying to remember something about something to do with getting a move on. So we had a beer. And then another. And then we decided to leave. We were still on time, though. How that was exactly, I am not quite clear. I am sure there is a branch of maths or science that deals with such things. You see, our beer brains seem to know how to manage the time that we absolutely have to leave and the real time that we absolutely have to leave. And it never fails. Forget the Big Bang, Stephen Hawking, just work that out and we’ll be happy.</div><div><br />We hit the road again, out along Foote St, and the Kilmore-Lancefield Road, and winding our way through back roads and byways, taking in the beauty of the lush green pastures, and the sparkle of filtered light through enormous overhanging trees. Thirty minutes later we came to a brief halt. We’d hit the convoy from Melbourne. As far as we could see into the distance was a parade of pilgrims, like us, waiting for their moment to worship and cry out Hallelujah. Fortunately for us, we’d approached from the other direction, enjoying a momentary pause, until the traffic officer held back the masses, and made way for our three vehicles. We’d arrived. So much for the prepaid parking ticket! No one asked for it, no one was checking anything or collecting payment. The ground attendants were just happy to herd everyone into the parkland. Now, I’m not saying we parked a long way away, but, I’m pretty sure I could see the back of my house not too far away.</div><div><br />On a bright day, loaded up with chairs, and hampers, and bags, it was a fair walk through the grass just to get to the queue, which was already strung out over a couple of kilometres. My wife suggested things might be easier if I let go of the stubby, and held something else with my right hand. I swear, I don’t know where she gets these crazy ideas from. Once in line, there was nothing else to do but stand and wait. So we freshened up and enjoyed another beer. We observed a lone figure in the middle of a vast paddock. I guess he was waiting for friends to arrive. He did strike an unusual pose, with his long cloak lightly flapping in the breeze. He seemed to take our jibes quite well: “Hey, Frodo, Gandalf said he’d meet you by the merchandise tent,” or “Harry Potter! Your cloak isn’t working. We can see you!” As I said, he took the gentle ribbing well. Either that or he was lost in thought, trying to figure out what to do with that damned Ring...</div><div><br />As it was the first event there, the organisers were learning as they went. They’d decided they needed more room for parking, and told half the line to squash up ‘concertina like’ in about a dozen rows. This was all very well and good until those at the back of the line, and those just arriving over the hill thought it was every man for himself and all the lines would all start again. From a distance it reminded me of the famous scene from Zulu. Some guys next to us started singing “Men Of Harlech.” Others shouted at them strange words, like: “Ti'n llawn cachu!” That group then started singing: “The Warwickshire Lad.” And the barrage of words continued. “Cau dy ffwcin ceg!” “Cachu bant ti cachu mes!” A scuffle broke out, with one man knocked to the ground. Two handsome African gentlemen near us observed the commotion. One turned to the other and said, “Lesu, mae o'n rel coc oen.” As the horde got closer, it then reminded me of Braveheart. A guy at the front of the approaching mob may have been yelling something about “Freedom” and then abruptly blaming the whole mess on the Jews. Things started to get a little tense. We’d been waiting for around half an hour already, without moving, and we weren’t going to give up any ground. Sanity prevailed, and eventually everyone fell into line, allowing the cars to fill up Frodo Potter’s paddock.</div><div><br />On we marched, around the bend, towards the entrance, for another half an hour. The routine precise: take a few steps, put down the hamper, and the chairs, put down the stubby. Hitch up the pants, pick up the hamper and chairs, and pick up the stubby. Sip. Continue. Along the way, we encountered some new arrivals, oblivious of the ruckus earlier, seeking to jump the queue. These were people that parked their cars in the new spaces in the paddock, and not wanting to join the end of the queue, thought it was okay to just join in at the end of their car park aisle. Luckily, in most instances, there were car park attendants to escort them back. However, not every aisle had an attendant. By the third occurrence, my wife had had enough – loudly identifying and shaming the intruders until they could take no more and departed. One poor fool confronted her, getting into her face, saying “What are you going to do? Start a fight?” To which, her brother, Joey, a short but fiery individual, replied: “Yes,” as he gently, but matter of factly, placed hand on chest and eased the guy away from his sister. It helped that Joey, was shadowed by his older, hulk of a brother, Barney. Both are gentle souls, but both very protective of their family. A ripple of applause rang through the crowd. We arrived at the gates without further incident.</div><div><br />Getting through the gates at an event can sometimes be an arduous experience. Not so at Hanging Rock. I’d decided to leave my camera at home, as, although it is just a standard digital, it looks more ‘pro’ than what it is and I didn’t want to go though the hassle of confiscation and argument, etc. I’d also snuck a flask of whiskey in my jeans (hence the hitching up routine) to curb the price of alcohol likely to be charged inside. Well, I could have taken a slab and a small production crew with me. “Anything in the hamper?” asked the attendant. “No,” I said. “Okay, have a good day.” This was in total contrast to seeing Leonard Cohen at Rochford a couple of years earlier, where I can still hear the snooty patron asking “How&nbsp;are we going to cut the cheese?” as his knife was confiscated. And the full cavity body search still leaves emotional scars to this day. They don’t call. They don’t write...</div><div><br />At last we were inside. We made it.<br /><br />Hanging Rock. It evokes a profound sense of mystery and awe. We can't help but feel we are standing on sacred ground. Cohen also illuminates a persona of immense mysticism and spirituality. We are told that he was ecstatic about the chance to play at The Rock, being a huge fan of Peter Weir's classic movie. I could think of no better choice of words than those of Leonard Cohen to echo through eternity around Hanging Rock. We set up our chairs and blankets - seeking alignment between the stage, the bar, and the toilets, whilst ensuring a pleasant view of the surrounds.<br /><br />Having set up, it was now time to check out the merchandise and the all important toilet location. I was really disappointed in the quality of the tee-shirts purchased at his last concert and could see nothing has changed since, so quickly avoided those in favour of a nifty key ring and 'Cup of Mercy' mug. Now, call me pedantic, but it would have been good to know, prior to purchasing it, that the mug has numerous poisonous chemicals applied to its surface to create the decorative emblem, and is therefore not recommended to be drunk from. Drink. Splutter. Cough. Collapse. Hey, that's no way to say goodbye...<br /><br />The toilet block was neatly arranged between the bars (convenient: empty, refill, empty, refill) and split into Men, Women and Unisex. I'm assuming it meant either, not both. Although, I imagine the couple that crap together are clearly made for each other... The line for the Mens was always about 30 metres long with a wait of over 10 minutes. Yet there was never more than one or two in line outside the Unisex. All evening, I noticed guys seeing the empty Unisex cubicles but unwilling to break free from the deep rooted Aussie males' psyche that proclaims: Real Men Don't Pee In Unisex Toilets. It never failed to amuse me as passed by all of these Real Men, waiting in line, missing three or four songs. After I'd finish I'd walk past, knowing that they'd noticed me, heads down, but the look on their eyes saying, "I know! I'm a fool....But I wanna be a Real Man!" Then they'd dance a little jig so they didn't piss themselves.<br /><br />Late afternoon drifted by. It was a beautiful day, with a steady wind keeping us cool. We chatted and passed the time in a very relaxed manner, as did everyone present, waiting for the Great Man to appear. The crowd swelled as the first two support acts played their sets. Interesting but not inspiring. Entertaining but not overwhelming. From what we had seen, heard, and read, we expected more, especially considering the reputation of both singers and the high regard for them in music circles. To be fair to Clare Bowditch and Dan Sultan, Paul Kelly and Leonard Cohen were front of mind for most of the crowd. The other factor was the wind. It was quite strong during the afternoon and carried the sound far off into the distance. It eased considerably by the time Paul Kelly played.<br /><br />Paul Kelly deserves more space than this article can afford him, such is his brilliance. Only someone who is highly skilled, dedicated and hard working, and well versed and passionate about his craft can make it all seem so effortless on stage. His rendition of Everything's Turning To White with Clare Bowditch was superb. Kelly's set alone has more than repaid the cost of admission.<br /><br />The moment has arrived. Cohen strides out to rapturous applause from the worshippers at the alter. He is our Jim Jones and we are the cordial drinkers. The Messiah in a pin-stripe. From the first note of Dance Me To The End Of Love, the religious fervour of the crowd builds, enraptured with every word, every move. Cohen's timing is impeccable. The performance rehearsed to perfection.<br /><br />For over an hour, Cohen submerges us in his world of love and beauty, regret, and redemption. He drowns us in melodies and harmonies that flow around his world weary voice. When he finally takes a break, the audience comes up for air, struggling to recapture their breath. Taking some time to compose themselves and clear their minds before the final onslaught. As if timed to the second, darkness and a chill descend upon the crowd. When Cohen and his backup singers reappear they are draped in scarves. It is very cold. This may be a major concern for other concerts at this venue - no matter how glorious the day, it is uncomfortably cold at night.<br /><br />The show continues. Always the great showman, Cohen knows when and how to extract the most out of his audience. He entices the crowd with a reinvigorated Hallelujah, and then possesses them totally with A Thousand Kisses Deep. Lovers embrace and kiss. Holding hands, swaying to the rhythms, hypnotised by the charlatan with an angel's smile. Is there laughter behind his eyes when recites these words? </div><div><br />And then he was done. Finished. For two and a half hours Cohen swooped us up and gave us a glimpse of the universe through his eyes and then gently let us down again. Calm, but spent. Speechless. Reflective. Serene. The serenity lasted until everyone tried to leave the car park at the same time. Our three cars were separated, but I could see Joey in the distance. After being cut off several times, he was starting to retaliate. First it was queue jumpers, and now it was car park road rage. I was reminded of Michael Douglas in Falling Down. And when Joe stopped to get a warmer jacket out of his boot, I could have sworn he was reaching for his bazooka. We each ended up driving home in different directions yet managed to arrive at our respective homes around the same time, as we always do. Another one for Stephen Hawking.... It was an extremely interesting and entertaining day; well worth the cost</div><div><br />Oh, and the review? It wasn't as good as Rochford. </div>Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-31619457078421112912011-01-23T15:11:00.004+11:002011-01-24T18:15:01.696+11:00Ever Heard Of Steve Poltz?<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/TTurRLfbFPI/AAAAAAAAAD8/SVyjz7LYtr0/s1600/poltzlive.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565230076177093874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 252px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 292px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/TTurRLfbFPI/AAAAAAAAAD8/SVyjz7LYtr0/s320/poltzlive.png" border="0" /></a><br /><div>“Ever heard of Steve Poltz?” Probably not. Didn’t he write that song with that woman? Yes, he wrote You Were Meant For Me with Jewel. But there is so much more to him than That Song. The spirit of troubadours and minstrels live on in Steve Poltz. He regularly travels the world, sharing stories and songs of love, death, pain, happiness and laughter.</div><div><br />That Song was not my first introduction to Poltz. I purchased One Left Shoe, based on the look and feel of the cover. I was not disappointed, and over a decade later those songs still make it to playlists and mixed tapes. Over the years I’ve picked up most of his albums, both solo, and in his previous life with the cult band, The Rugburns. It wasn’t until I purchased Mommy I’m Sorry that I realised my very first introduction to him was watching a cover of Sesame Street on some music show. We never got the name of the band, and never saw the clip again.</div><div><br />A Steve Poltz album gives you everything; excellent musicianship, melodies and words rich in texture, with a keen eye for observation. He has an actor’s feel for drama, and a comedian’s sense of timing, with a quirky sense of humour. And he genuinely enjoys sharing all this and more with a live audience.</div><div><br />Steve played The Northcote Social Club on January 22nd, a venue he enjoys returning to. The NSC is a very comfortable, easy place to hang out, being able to enjoy a quiet drink with friends before the show, watching the unusual, weird, and wonderful denizens amble through – none more freaky than the bar staff.</div><div><br />I drifted into the stage bar around 9.15 to catch the support act, Kate Walker. A very gifted guitar player, and singer, Kate was well supported by friends and fans. Two standout songs remain with me. A wry ode to a friend, I Liked You Better Before You Found God, and a breathtaking cover of Over The Rainbow/What A Wonderful World. Kate is as good as anyone you hear on the radio – her biggest step will be in managing self-consciousness on stage, self -confidence once in the songs end, and to develop an entertainer’s presence on stage as a performer. Having said that, it was a strong set and received rousing applause from the gathering crowd.</div><div><br />Steve comes on stage around 10.15 pm and from the first note his enthusiasm is infectious. For the next two and a bit hours he has the audience in the palm of his hand – laughing, singing, and sometimes in total silence as he weaves his way through his repertoire.</div><div><br />I saw him at this venue around the same time last year, getting the crowd in the mood with his intro vox-pop video “Ever Heard Of Steve Poltz?” before exploding into Chinese Checkers that set the scene for the evening. He blew me away with two songs that night, a cover of Dylan’s Forever Young, sung with the effervescent Bushwalla, and my personal request, Salvation Song. There was no Salvation Song this night, but there were equally impressive renditions of his standards, like Once Again, I Killed Walter Matthau, and The Great Mystery, as well as a faultless version of She Moved Through The Fair. He played songs from his most recent album, Dreamhouse (retailers, why is this cd so hard to find?), and that other well known song, You Remind Me, yes, the Jeep ad song. He didn’t play That Song, but no one noticed, such was the energy and passion that he devotes to his set lists. </div><div><br />Steve Poltz transfers his energy and passion to the crowd, encouraging audience participation if and when he can. From his epic Rugburns song Dick’s Automotive, with added baritone and falsetto, to the hands across the world finale of Long Haul, with hilarious commentary, he has that uncanny ability to conscript members of the audience and happily get them out of their comfort zone for a short while, to since or dance, or share a laugh. In turn, he helps them express who they really are.</div><div><br />Clothing is another form of self expression. Have you ever noticed that people like to wear band tee shirts to gigs? I do. I guess it’s a bit vain, it’s a bit of a status thing; look at me, this is who I am and who I like. Can it make a difference to the gig? It did for me. I’d worn one of my favourites – a Big Star tee shirt. Big Star: one of the best ‘unknown bands’ that have influenced countless numbers over the years. I was overwhelmed when Steve Poltz dedicated his cover of Thirteen to Big Star’s late, great Alex Chilton, who passed away in 2010. As always, I purchase a copy of the show on USB, and hang back to pick up an extra cd or offer thanks for a great performance. When I spoke with Steve briefly after his set, I’m not sure who was more gob-smacked: him for seeing someone with a Big Star tee shirt, or me for having one idol play one of my top ten favourite songs. The beauty of Steve is that he appreciates the awe us fans have for our rock stars. He makes a point of getting around to as many people as he can, sincerely acknowledging their support and interested in their comments or questions. And he backs that message up professionally. This show was his last public gig in Australia. But he was performing again – in someone’s lounge or backyard. You see, subject to availability, you can book him for your own private gig. Sure, he doesn’t make much from it – but it keeps him grounded, and connected to his fans. Just like the minstrels of old...</div><div><br />Ever heard of Steve Poltz? You have now. The rest is up to you.</div>Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-79229314060363703772010-10-30T02:52:00.007+11:002011-01-29T11:41:07.280+11:00From The Royal Mail To The Forum: Paul Weller<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/TMruhbsGkgI/AAAAAAAAADw/rytRhEDvgIU/s1600/paul_weller.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533497350313906690" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/TMruhbsGkgI/AAAAAAAAADw/rytRhEDvgIU/s320/paul_weller.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 181px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 177px;" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="color: white;">From The Royal Mail To The Forum: Paul Weller</span></strong></div><div><br /><span style="color: white;">I am a massive</span> <span style="color: red;">Paul Weller</span> <span style="color: white;">fan. And I didn’t even realise it until a few days ago. I mean, I’ve always liked him, and regularly include his songs on mixed compilations. But it finally dawned on me just how much Paul Weller stuff I have. In anticipation of his concert, I began listening to various songs on my iPod. I have a couple of</span> <span style="color: red;">The Jam</span> <span style="color: white;">albums, all of</span> <span style="color: red;">The Style Council,</span> <span style="color: white;">and most of his solo work. In fact, as I look back, Paul Weller has played, and will play, a significant role in the key moments of my adult life.</span></div><div><br /><span style="color: white;">As a young man I was hooked on</span> <span style="color: #ffff33;">A Town Called Malice</span> <span style="color: white;">and</span> <span style="color: #ffff33;">That’s Entertainment.</span> <span style="color: white;">They were the type of songs I wished I could write. Sadly, my efforts didn’t even come close. For our wedding, my wife and I chose</span><span style="color: #ffff33;"> You’re The Best Thing,</span> <span style="color: white;">which is still a very special song for us. I still remember the DJ we hired did not have a copy of the song, so he bought the album. It makes me laugh now as I recall he announced the married couple to the dance floor and played track 9, not track 10. For those not familiar with</span> <span style="color: #ffff33;">Cafe Bleu,</span> <span style="color: white;">track 9 is the rather unwedding- like</span> <span style="color: #ffff33;">Strength Of Your Nature.</span> <span style="color: white;">Across the other side of the room, we were frantically waving (and laughing) at him to stop. Finally, he stopped, apologised, announced the married couple again, and then proceeded to play the exact same song again. This went on another two or three times. In the end I had to go over to him, put his headphones on him, point out track 10, and let him hear the song properly. Shouldn’t he have played the song prior to the wedding reception? There was rapturous applause when, at last, we hit the dance floor to</span> <span style="color: #ffff33;">You’re The Best Thing.</span><span style="color: white;"> Of special significance to me is the song</span> <span style="color: #ffff33;">Brand New Start,</span> <span style="color: white;">which is one of the many songs that feature on my</span> <span style="color: red;">Funeral CD</span><span style="color: white;"> (but that’s another story).</span></div><div><br /><span style="color: white;">So, it was with much excitement that I caught a train into the city to see Weller. As it was a warm day, I’d decided to meet Scog at the Royal Mail, in West Melbourne. The Royal Mail is just past a short walk from Flagstaff Station. When I say just past a short walk, I mean it is just enough past a short walk in order to build up a healthy thirst, loathe joggers, and appreciate cabs. The Royal Mail is a quiet and unassuming inner city pub, of the old school type. Most of the patrons are locals, and newcomers are greeted happily and welcomed. Everyone dips in and out of each other’s conversations. It’s not flashy or pretentious, and it delivers exactly what it should every time – a perfect cold beer on a hot day. It seemed like the perfect place to be before a Paul Weller concert. The idea was to have a few quiet beers between 5.30 and 7pm and then Scog would make his way to the station and I’d wander on down to The Forum. By 8pm, I was still caught up watching Scog play pool, and chatting about music, football, and family. I called it quits at 8.40 pm and stumbled out to catch a cab to The Forum.</span></div><div><br /><span style="color: white;">The atmosphere was fantastic. I’m not sure if the people who had seats at the back paid more for them, but I reckon if they did, they were robbed. The real excitement was the standing room right in front of the stage. Perfect viewing, a bit of banter, and a short push and shove to the bar. Although, after taking out a second mortgage to pay for the two Jack Daniels, I decided I’d had enough to drink for the night.</span></div><div><br /><span style="color: white;">Weller swaggered onto the stage, belting out tracks from his latest album,</span> <span style="color: #ffff33;">Wake Up The Nation,</span> <span style="color: white;">as well as from</span><span style="color: #ffff33;"> As Is Now.</span> <span style="color: white;">This was no Greatest Hits compilation – I suspect he chooses which songs to play carefully. And, at 52, Weller could easily settle for touring around with Hits and Memories, with such a vast songbook of popular tunes. It is a credit to him that he writes as good as ever, and he plays his songs with such passion and energy, that both old and new mesh together so well. A few songs in and Weller was well settled, alternately chewing gum, smoking, smirking, and singing, with a voice that hasn’t lost any of its vibrancy, or aggression.</span> </div><div><br /><span style="color: white;">The crowd helped to step it up a notch, getting into</span> <span style="color: #ffff33;">Shout To The Top,</span> <span style="color: white;">and</span><span style="color: #ffff33;"> That’s Entertainment.</span> <span style="color: white;">But, for me, the performances of</span> <span style="color: #ffff33;">You Do Something To Me,</span> <span style="color: white;">and</span> <span style="color: #ffff33;">Brand New Start</span> <span style="color: white;">were brilliant, as was</span> <span style="color: #ffff33;">Fast Car/Slow Traffic</span> <span style="color: white;">and</span> <span style="color: #ffff33;">Wake Up The Nation,</span> <span style="color: white;">which showcased the excellence of his backing band. The truth is, it was a perfect set. Each song fitted in place to enhance the whole show.</span> </div><div><br /><span style="color: white;">It was clear that Weller was enjoying himself, too; returning for four encores, including a superb acoustic session. There were a few murmurs about why</span> <span style="color: #ffff33;">A Town Called Malice</span> <span style="color: white;">was omitted from the set. Each to their own. The band were so good at what they did, that it was a privilege to watch them play anything. Weller should be congratulated for not being predictable, and having the courage to take some of his more complex arrangements on the road. And, after all, he is The Modfather – he’ll sing you a song you can’t refuse.</span></div><div><br /><span style="color: white;">Ps: If you don’t own any Weller, you can get</span> <span style="color: red;">Hit Parade,</span> <span style="color: white;">which is a compilation of his better known songs across his whole career. If you can’t afford all his albums but want a deeper insight than Hit Parade, then I suggest three compilations:</span> <span style="color: red;">Compact Snap (The Jam), The Style Council Collection,</span> <span style="color: white;">and</span> <span style="color: red;">Modern Classics (solo work).</span> <span style="color: white;">That should keep you happy for a while.</span></div>Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-4451434119390984082010-10-16T03:10:00.005+11:002010-10-16T03:54:44.260+11:00Radio Daze<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/TLh-M_skVbI/AAAAAAAAADo/_U8Wnm2CpEc/s1600/rca_globe_trotter_1.jpg"><span style="color:#000000;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528307304319178162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 243px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/TLh-M_skVbI/AAAAAAAAADo/_U8Wnm2CpEc/s320/rca_globe_trotter_1.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><div></div><div><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">Let’s go back. Way back around the early seventies. No </span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">iPods. No cd players. Not even portable cassette players. Radio was King. Anyone who loved music would be glued to</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Uptight</span><span style="color:#ff0000;">,</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">or the</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Happening 70’s</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">series</span><span style="color:#ffffff;">.</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">GTK</span> </span><span style="color:#ffffff;">was essential viewing. And later there would be</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Countdown, Sounds</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">and</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Night Moves</span><span style="color:#ff0000;">.</span> </span></div><div><br /><span style="color:#ffffff;">But, the overwhelming source of Rock was Radio.</span></div><div><br /><span style="color:#ffffff;">Any time that we couldn’t blast out records on our stereo, we could be found with a radio. And on the AM band, it sounded just fine...as the alternative was...Nothing! It was our constant companion on weekends and holidays, rain, hail or shine. We’d sneak a listen to it in my dad’s car, if we could, on those days when he’d leave us in the car park of the pub, whilst he had a couple of beers with his mates. Or, out front of the local TAB.</span></div><div><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">However, the best times, the most special times, were when I’d sneak my parents’ transistor into my room when it was time for bed, and listen to it through my pillow, or under the blankets altogether. This was no tiny pocket radio – it was a big as two house bricks, and, like all radios of the time, the volume only had two settings:</span> <span style="color:#ffff33;">‘Way Too Low I Can’t Hear Anything’</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">and</span> <span style="color:#ffff66;">‘Way Too High, I’m Gonna Get Sprung Soon.’</span> </span><span style="color:#ffffff;">The second volume setting was always worth the risk.</span></div><div><span style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><span style="color:#ffffff;">As the second youngest, I would be sent to bed before my brother, whom I shared the room with. That gave me plenty of time by myself to listen on my own. Besides, he had almost no interest in music, and to this day still suffers the same affliction. Listening to music then would take me away to a whole new world. The ice cold cement walls that turned your room into a meat freezer, or going to bed still hungry would soon be forgotten as I entered the world of Rock Gods and cared about nothing except guitar solos and looking cool. </span></div><div><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">I remember being blown away by the</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">CCR</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">cover of</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">I Heard It Through The Grapevine</span><span style="color:#ffffff;">, and would always be disappointed if the station played the edited version, instead of the classic 11 minute jam. Of course, back then I had no idea it was a cover, and didn’t hear of</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Marvin Gaye</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">until I was a few years older. There are hundreds of songs that had a huge impact on me, but some of the notable ones that I am still fond of now are ones like</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">In The Year 2525</span><span style="color:#ff0000;">,</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">by</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Zager &amp; Evans</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">which sounds so much better in the dark, on your own.</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Indian Reservation</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">by</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Paul Revere &amp; The Raiders</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">is still a good pop song, and certainly stirred the imagination of an impressionable eight year old.</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">The Five Man Electrical Band</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">also had the classic song</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Signs</span><span style="color:#ff0000;">,</span> </span><span style="color:#ffffff;">which I thought was so cool and rebellious - I'd sing it all day at school, "Imagine that, huh, me, workin' for you? Whoah!" <span style="color:#ff0000;">The Weight</span> by <span style="color:#ff0000;">The Band</span> is the greatest rock song written, with the classic first lines, "I pulled into Nazareth, I was feelin' about half past dead." </span><span style="color:#ffffff;">The DJ's would never say the name of the song. If you asked me as a child what my favourite song was, my reply would be, "That song I don't know the name of by the band I don't know." I think the name I used was The Load. It typified everything I wanted Rock to be back then. It still does now.</span></div><div><br /><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">The song that still stops me in my tracks is the brilliant</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Bridge Over Troubled Water</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">by</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Simon &amp; </span><span style="color:#ff0000;">Garfunkel.</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">I never tired of listening to it, as did my whole family. It was such a shame that my fourth grade teacher stole the album when I took it to school...Or was that</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Sounds Of </span><span style="color:#ff0000;">Silence?</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">Anyway, the song first introduced to me on radio, soon became a family favourite. Even our mother liked the song. When she died in 2000, we decided that the funeral ceremony would feature one song chosen by her,</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">I Love You Because</span><span style="color:#ff0000;">,</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">by</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Jim </span><span style="color:#ff0000;">Reeves,</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">one song chosen by our father</span><span style="color:#ffffff;">,</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Too </span><span style="color:#ff0000;">Young,</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">by</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">Nat King </span><span style="color:#ff0000;">Cole,</span> <span style="color:#ffffff;">and one chosen by the six kids,</span> </span><span style="color:#ff0000;">Bridge Over Troubled Water.</span></div><div><span style="color:#000000;"><br /><span style="color:#ffffff;">Whenever I hear that song , wherever I am, I can’t not listen to it. Of course, it reminds me instantly of my mother. But, it also takes me back to my radio days, driving in the car, sitting around the table arguing, sitting by the pool in the backyard, or lying in my bed, but in a whole other place, until reality gate-crashes the party, when my mother would walk in, turn the light on, give me a clip across the head, and yell,</span> <span style="color:#ffff00;">“Your father’s been looking for that bloody tranny! Now go to sleep!”</span></span></div><div><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="color:#ffff00;"><br /></span></span><span style="color:#ffffff;">I miss all of that.</span></div>Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-109140711352240842009-12-05T09:39:00.005+11:002009-12-05T11:08:46.975+11:002010<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/Sxmi1lpOxsI/AAAAAAAAADQ/AArNQnisOww/s1600-h/the+new+year.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411535468784174786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/Sxmi1lpOxsI/AAAAAAAAADQ/AArNQnisOww/s320/the+new+year.png" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="color:#ffffff;">It's been a tough year, personally &amp; professionally. I have not been able to get to this site as much as I would have liked. Actually, I've done nothing at all. Zero. Nada. Kinda like INXS without Michael Hutchence...You know, it's still around, but of aboslutely no importance, or purpose.</span></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ffffff;">But I'll be back in 2010, just like</span> <span style="color:#ff0000;">(insert name of washed of B-Grade rocker making a pathetic comeback attempt here). </span><span style="color:#ffffff;">At least there will be no shortage of material, as this last year has given me a huge backlog of thoughts and ramblings to spew forth on the world.</span></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ffffff;">In the meantim, browse around some old articles, or news feeds, or play one of the cheesey games at the bottom. </span></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Songs Of 2009</strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">A Thousand Kisses Deep - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Leonard Cohen (played A Day On The Green at Rochford. Amazing)</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">Sex Is On Fire - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Kings Of Leon</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">Overcome - <span style="color:#ffff66;">Live (Black Saturday Bushfires rage across Victoria</span></span><span style="color:#ffff66;">)</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">Will I See You In Heaven? - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">The Jayhawks</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">Giving It All Away - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Leo Sayer (For Terry, who lost his battle. RIP.)</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">Leaps &amp; Bounds - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Paul Kelly (Sound Relief - The MCG)</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">Holy Grail - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Hunters &amp; Collectors</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">Redemption Song - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Joe Strummer/Johnny Cash</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">When A Blind Man Cries - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Deep Purple</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">Chain Lightning - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Don McLean</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">Eskimo - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Damien Rice</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">Beat It - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Michael Jackson</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">September Gurls - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Big Star</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">You Gotta Fight For Your Right To Party - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Beastie Boys (All those 21sts!!)</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">Take The Money &amp; Run - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Steve Miller (Redundant...again!)</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">Remember The Days Of The Old School Yard - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Cat Stevens</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">My Guitar Wants To Kill Your Mama - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">Frank Zappa (10 Years Long Service)</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">Glory Glory - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">The Blackeyed Susans (Reveal Yourself CD Box set launch at NSC)</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">Dear Employer </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">(The Reason I Quit) - The Minus 5</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">This Will Be Our Year - </span><span style="color:#ffff66;">The Zombies</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ffff66;"></span></div>See you in 2010!<br /><div><span style="color:#ffff66;"></span></div>Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-26587283528360785082008-02-20T12:13:00.008+11:002008-02-20T15:23:06.415+11:00Essential Music Definitions<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/R7t_5tkuS1I/AAAAAAAAACE/jtDL-tlF1cQ/s1600-h/dictionary.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168865626800671570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="176" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/R7t_5tkuS1I/AAAAAAAAACE/jtDL-tlF1cQ/s320/dictionary.jpg" width="218" border="0" /></a> In our ongoing efforts to educate the reader, we are proud to offer the following definitions. We trust the reader will now have a better undertsanding of the world of popular music and that these definitions assist with the reader in making the right listening choices.<br /><br /><br /><br />1. <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Dylanquent</span></strong> (n.): a person, predominantly young, who displays antisocial behaviour as a result of listening to Bob Dylan.<br /><br />2. <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Hallelucination</span></strong> (n.): the experience of continuing the belief that Leonard Cohen's original version is superior to Jeff Buckley's cover.<br /><br />3. <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Lobosexual</span> </strong>(n.): a sensitive singer/songwriter of indeterminate sexuality.<br /><br />4. <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Bonophobe</span></strong> (n.): one who fears the "cause du jour" preaching by famous mega rock stars or other celebrities.<br /><br />5. <span style="color:#ffff00;"><strong>Silvercherish</strong> </span>(v.): to stubbornly hold onto the view that one's recent work has artistic or commercial value despite continual and obvious proof otherwise.<br /><br />6. <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Zepplinen</span></strong> (n.): used bed sheets and other bedroom artifacts acquired by groupies and fans in the late 60's and early 70's.<br /><br />7.<span style="color:#ffff00;"> </span><strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Diarrhoereed</span> </strong>(n.): 1. the complete works of Lou Reed 2. the result of listening to Lou Reed.<br /><br />8. <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Psycholoasis</span> </strong>(n): the study of brothers whose combined brains do not even register an IQ reading, yet function quite normally when separated.<br /><br />9. <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Jaggernaut</span></strong> (n): any pompous, flambouyant prat who still thinks they are rebelling against the establishment that they have become part of.<br /><br />10: <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Mariahcisstic</span></strong> (adj.): an abnormally high opinion of one's own output that has been universally shunned even by peers. To be a <span style="color:#ff0000;"><em>Social Mariah.<br /></em><br /></span>11: <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Eaglomaniac</span></strong> (n.): a once great person who comes out of retirement for all of the wrong reasons, usually related to money, and maintains they have current relevance.<br /><br />12: <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Reggaelia</span></strong> (adj.): 1. the adoption of a musical form, or lifestyle, primarily to facilitate the smoking of marijuana. 2. the fashion of marijuana<br /><br />13: <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Westerburglar</span></strong> (n.): one who obtains success through imitation of obscure innovators. <em><span style="color:#ff0000;">Westerburgaled</span></em> (v.): the act of stealing the work of another and receiving greater appreciation, fame, success than the originator.<br /><br />14: <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Replacementia</span></strong> (n.): the emotional trauma of being Westerburgaled<br /><br />15: <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Bjorkward</span></strong> (adv.): 1: the embarassing moment when realisation strikes that what was considered high art genius is merely mediocre madness. 2: when lack of talent is considered art.<br /><br />16: <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Supertrampelistic </span></strong>(n.): any person or persons that were highly respected one decade and almost entirely forgotten the next. See also <em><span style="color:#ff0000;">Supertrampelisticexpelledforbeingaudacious.</span><br /><br /></em>17: <span style="color:#ffff00;"><strong>Elvision</strong> </span>(n.): the religious like phenomenon of seeing dead rock stars in convenience stores and fast food outlets.<br /><br />18: <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Powderfungus</span></strong> (n.): discomfort cause from gunpowder residue as a result of shooting oneself in the foot by accepting the accolades and promotions of commercial pop culture whilst still trying to maintain serious alternative music credibility.<br /><br />19: <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Eminemena</span></strong> (n.): anything that may have once been considered new and refreshing, or different, but is now only used to produce a bowel movement. See also <span style="color:#ff0000;"><em>Diarrhoereed. </em><br /></span><em><br /></em>20: <strong><span style="color:#ffff00;">Vanillacide</span></strong> (n.): self inflicted musical or creative death by attaching the word Vanilla to any artist name, performance, song, or album.Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-22738577942703045892008-01-18T15:18:00.002+11:002008-02-20T01:43:17.788+11:00Alas, Poor CRAM... I Knew It Well.<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/R5Aow5bG4wI/AAAAAAAAAB0/KfRG9xGZ_y4/s1600-h/CRAM_LOGO.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156666393852568322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/R5Aow5bG4wI/AAAAAAAAAB0/KfRG9xGZ_y4/s320/CRAM_LOGO.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I love traditional old record stores. Especially more so in these times of mega-conglomerates churning out the same stuff, the same “must have” back catalogues, or slashing prices, or god forbid, setting a fashion trend. It’s now become just as important where you buy your stuff as it is what you buy in order to define who you are. Not so the old record stores. And I’m not talking about trendy inner city ones, with their carefully crafted High Fidelity-esque ambiance. I passed one on Glenferrie Road recently that had removed a huge chunk of stock space to make way for the most pretentious little café setting I have seen. Littered with intense young tertiary types, and rich kids with their <span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Judy Is A Punk</strong></span> hand written t-shirts, I’m sure they feel their street cred has been hugely elevated. <span style="color:#ffff99;">“And hey, doesn’t this serious vinyl, make a seriously great photo back drop for a seriously casual “in the moment” photograph? Oh but can you move it to the left a little, just to capture the filtered light and thereby exposing a hint of my complete duality. No, no, just a little further. There. Great. Awesome. And so natural. Amazing.”</span><br /><br />But, I digress. I’m talking about your unpretentious record store. They sell some new stuff, sure, but mostly second hand records, tapes and cd’s. And books. There are stories to be told just from the way the book looks, how it has been used over the years, let alone the tales of what is inside. See, the wannabes mentioned earlier buy some of these books, too. Maybe some read them. Most of them toss a few on the coffee table, because that pre-loved worn out look adds so much depth to their individuality. (Cough). A friend of mine borrowed my copy of <span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>High Fidelity</strong></span> and it came back in a terrible state. I quizzed him about it, so I know he never bothered reading it. I suspect the way he wore out the book was premeditated, so that it looked wonderful casually placed on top of an equally unread and artfully positioned copy of <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">The Dark Stuff</span></strong>.<br /><br />Still…I digress again… Used vinyl, tapes, and cd’s. Like a kid in a candy store. In the last few years they’ve become my playground, my refuge, a place to get away from work. Browse. Think. Listen. Sometimes a quick chat to the owner about what is playing at present, or do a quick price check. <span style="color:#ffff99;">“How much would Trout Mask Replica cost?”</span> Or: <span style="color:#ffff99;">“What would you pay for the complete vinyl collection of Zappa?”</span> By and large they are helpful, but they also want to make a profit or pick up up a cheap bargain. So, I’m led to believe Captain Beefheart’s Opus will cost me a fortune and Zappa, well, Zappa isn’t worth much apparently…but they’d be happy to take them off my hands, anyway. I think I’ll hold on to both a while longer….<br /><br />I must confess, I don’t but that many vinyl records anymore. For my purposes, cd’s work best. But I still keep a look out. And you will always find something, somewhere that is no longer on the artist’s cd catalogue. Funny…you go there with the sole purpose of picking up one particular album but may leave with several others instead…and if you are lucky, some gems you have never heard of before.<br /><br />One such place was CRAM, Camberwell Records And Music. Inside, you could peruse music from all nations, and all inclinations, as well as cd’s, books, and clothes – you know the type, retro pit crew and auto workshop shirts? Why is it so? I still regret to this day not purchasing the ‘whiskey-styled’ <span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Neil Young</strong></span> tour t-shirt. Ho hum.<br /><br />I remember getting into <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Ryan Adams</span></strong> before discovering <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Whiskeytown</span></strong>. The same goes for <span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Wilco</strong></span> before <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Uncle Tupelo</span></strong>. I discovered several relatively rare albums from both bands at CRAM. The one that eluded me, though, was <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Son Volt</span></strong>. To complete my new found obsession with alt-Country, etc, I felt it was only right to include works by this seminal band in my compilations: skunkfolk (vols 1 to 3). I recall going to CRAM with the sole purpose of picking up a <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Black Eyed Susans</span></strong> album that my friend, Jason, had put me onto, when lo and behold three Son Volt albums were sitting there in the rack. Just waiting for me. <em><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Trace.</strong></span></em> <strong><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">Straightaways.</span></em></strong> And <strong><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">Wide Swing Tremolo.</span></em></strong> After searching for several years, I couldn’t believe I picked them up on a quiet stroll at lunch, not more than three blocks from work.<br /><br />That’s how CRAM worked. Always a surprise. Sometimes the odd disappointment. “<span style="color:#ffff99;">But, wow, the cover looked really, really good!”</span> The bargains are too many to mention. A <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Tim Rogers</span></strong> double album for $4.00 (Sorry, Jason). Old <span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Lemonheads </strong></span>singles. <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Jerry Jeff Walker. Leo Kottke. Paul Weller. Lambchop. Bonnie Prince Billy.</span></strong> The list goes on.<br /><br />Sadly, CRAM is no more. I moved offices and couldn’t get there as often as I liked. I remember telling the owner that he’d last 6 months without me propping up his business. I was only kidding…Sorry, okay?! I’m not sure what happened to CRAM. It’s now a florist. I don’t know what the reason for departure is but I guess it’s just not as viable to run a store on passion. I guess there’s more appeal to purchasing the complete discounted music/fashion experience from (insert mega store franchise here).<br /><br />So, farewell, CRAM. There may not be enough of us out there to sustain you, but there are enough to remember you.<br /><br />RIP.<br /><br />These blogs usually have a song or two to capture the flavour. I can’t really think of any, but for some reason it is the version of <span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>Miss Otis Regrets </strong></span>by <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">The Lemonheads</span></strong> that keeps echoing in my mind. It’ll do.<br /><br />ps: of course, you know I ended up eventually getting the <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Black Eyed Susans</span></strong> album, too. Gold.</div>Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-78805112339801135952007-12-03T22:12:00.000+11:002007-12-03T22:41:32.058+11:00Christmas Songs They Should Play But You Won't Hear At Christmas<a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/R1PopRIoRtI/AAAAAAAAABs/DCKVADX6jtg/s1600-R/badsanta.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139707395431745234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 136px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="169" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/R1PopRIoRtI/AAAAAAAAABs/rZOQIFrRIs0/s320/badsanta.jpg" width="181" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">I hate Christmas Carols. </div><div align="center">I hope <strong><span style="color:#66ffff;">Frosty </span></strong>melts.</div><div align="center">I hope <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Rudolph</span></strong> gets hit by a bus.</div><div align="center">Die, <span style="color:#ffff66;"><strong>Little Drummer Boy</strong></span>, Die!!<br /><br />Here is my<strong> Top 5 Christmas Songs</strong> List:<br /></div><ul><li><span style="color:#ffccff;"><strong>Silent Night</strong></span> by <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Simon &amp; Garfunkel</span></strong></li><br /><br /><li><span style="color:#ffccff;"><strong>Let's Sing Another Song, Boys</strong></span> by <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Leonard Cohen</span></strong></li><br /><br /><li><strong><span style="color:#ffccff;">Who's Gonna Make The Gravy?</span></strong> by<span style="color:#ff0000;"> <strong>Paul Kelly</strong></span></li><br /><br /><li><strong><span style="color:#ffccff;">Christmas Card From A Hooker In Minneapolis</span></strong> by <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Tom Waits</span></strong></li><br /><br /><li><span style="color:#ffccff;"><strong>Fairytale Of New York</strong></span> by <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">The Pogues</span></strong></li></ul><div></div><br /><p>If you can think of any others please let me know. I need to make up a playlist...something to drown out those damned carols by candle light...</p>Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-13941482798725952912007-11-26T00:04:00.002+11:002011-01-29T11:44:10.568+11:00Under The Influence<a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/R0-bNbsgkDI/AAAAAAAAABU/69bBl6WReXo/s1600-R/records.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138496354928070706" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/R0-bNbsgkDI/AAAAAAAAABU/apGkVpEx-kw/s320/records.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /></a><br />Last year my brother, Neil, developed stomach Cancer. It came as quite a shock to our family, as Neil has always been the active one, the rugged outdoors type - forever building something, diving off something else, or embarking on another trip to far off places. He has always been an active sportsman, being quite handy at both Cricket and Golf. So it was quite a shock. It was surprising and sad as well. Our mother died <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">several</span> years earlier from Cancer, and a couple of years later our father developed prostate Cancer, which he has had to live with since. <br /><br /><br />Thankfully, my brother responded well to treatment, no doubt helped by his relatively young age, otherwise good health, and positive attitude. For the last couple of months he has enjoyed being officially classed as "in remission." <br /><br /><br />I have no musical reference for my brother, no list, no influence. He is, perhaps, without doubt, the most unmusical person I have ever met. There are only a couple of things that come to mind. He was always quite keen on <span style="color: red;">Tom Jones'</span> <span style="color: #ffff66;">"She's A Lady"</span> as a child, which would always get him stirred endlessly. Funny, it seems quite cool now. Then, of course, there was the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Onkyo</span> stereo, one of the best that money could buy, for its time. Unfortunately, Neil only had five or six records, which he never played! Plus, the damned thing was stuck on AM, alternating between the races and football. What a waste of equipment!! Meanwhile, I'm stuck somewhere wearing out needles and blowing up speakers, whilst he is rejoicing in the modulated, crystal clear sounds of sports radio... <br /><br /><br /><br /><br />In recent years, I seem to recall, he has ventured into <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">cd</span> territory. I have a memo<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ry</span> of his wife waving a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">cd</span> frantically, trying to let us know how hip they are now that they own something along the lines of "Dad's BBQ Album" or "Dad's Twenty Great Driving Songs." You know what I'm talking about - the type of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">cd</span> that cost $2.00 at Crazy Waldo's Mad, Mad Discount World!<br /><br /><br />Now, on the other hand, my other brother, Terry, had a fantastic and lasting influence on me with regards to music. Whilst I like to think I would have found my way to him eventually, it was Terry who introduced me to the music of Frank Zappa. Sure, he started me with <span style="color: #ffff33;">Billy The Mountain</span> <span style="color: red;">(Just Another Band From L.A.)</span> and that "white album with the pencil on the front" <span style="color: red;">(Live At The Fillmore).</span><br /><br /><br />By many standards, Terry has had a tough life, surrounded by cigarettes, alcohol and various other substances, along with the odd run in with the long arm of the law. (Cue: <span style="color: #ffff66;">I Fought The Law &amp; The Law Won</span> by <span style="color: red;">The Clash</span>, <span style="color: #ffff66;">Bad Boy For Love</span> by <span style="color: red;">Rose Tattoo</span> and maybe <span style="color: #ffff33;">The Boys Are Back In Town</span> by <span style="color: red;">Thin Lizzy</span>).<br /><br /><br />Terry, along with Neil, left school early. "Yes, leave quietly and quickly or be thrown out noisily on your ass!" The benefit to me was that Terry suddenly had money, which meant he suddenly started buying records. In amongst all the fights, the drunken arguments, the fear, the homelessness, and the guilt, there were some great moments discovering unforgettable music. He would come home nearly every week with another one or two albums, play them maybe once, and leave them around for me to soak up every last word, note, chord, lyric, and liner note. By the time he left a copy of <span style="color: red;">Pop History Vol 7: The Mothers Of Invention</span>, I was hooked. I spent the next few years making sure I had every Zappa release there was - not an easy trick in Australia in the mid-seventies!<br /><br /><br />Over the years, Terry came and went several times, but he always left behind <strong><em>The Music</em></strong>, so when I was working all I worried about was new stuff. Eventually, he would gather all of his albums and leave me with... what? It wasn't nothing - I still had all those memories doing what you can't do with a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">cd</span> - pouring over the album artwork and liner notes of hundreds of great albums. He left me with a great legacy of extremely varied music - music that went beyond Top 40. Music that has for the most part, stood the test of time. And yes, I have collected most of those albums on cd, it's not the same as those old, worn record covers and crackly scratched vinyl.<br /><br />I can still see him now, watching Matt Taylor sing Black And Blue or I Remember When I Was Young, or listening late at night in the dark as he tried to tell me just how good Lobby Lloyd &amp; the Coloured Balls were...<br /><br /><br />The following are just a brief sample of some of the influence of my brother, Terry:<br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">Made In Japan</span> <span style="color: red;">Deep Purple</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">We Sold Our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Souls </span>For Rock n Roll</span> <span style="color: red;">Black Sabbath</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">Babylon By Bus</span> <span style="color: red;">Bob Marley &amp; The Wailers</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">In Search Of The Lost Chord</span> <span style="color: red;">The Moody Blues</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">Just Another Band From L.A.</span> <span style="color: red;">Frank Zappa &amp; The Mothers</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">Wish You Were Here</span> <span style="color: red;">Pink Floyd</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">My Aim Is True</span> <span style="color: red;">Elvis Costello &amp; The Attractions</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">Crime Of The Century</span> <span style="color: red;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Supertramp</span></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">Wired</span> <span style="color: red;">Jeff Beck</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">Physical Graffiti</span> <span style="color: red;">Led Zeppelin</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">Welcome To My Nightmare</span> <span style="color: red;">Alice Cooper</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">The Wedding Album</span> <span style="color: red;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Cheech</span> &amp; <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Chong</span></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">One More From The Road</span> <span style="color: red;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Lynyrd</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Skynyrd</span></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Livin</span>' In The Seventies</span> <span style="color: red;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Skyhooks</span></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">Rumours</span> <span style="color: red;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Fleetwood</span> Mac</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">Four Seasons </span><span style="color: red;">Sebastian Hardy</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">Boy From The Stars</span> <span style="color: red;">Jim <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Keyes</span></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: #ffff33;">Aqualung</span> <span style="color: red;">Jethro Tull</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />A couple of weeks ago, I won a double pass to see <span style="color: red;"><strong>Zappa Plays Zappa</strong></span>, a concert by Dweezil Zappa, featuring Frank's music, and image, on stage. Neither Terry or myself ever got to see Frank live, so this would have to be the next best thing. Last weekend my brother advised me he has Lung Cancer. His doctor told him he would "probably" make it to his 50<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">th</span> birthday in April, 2008. And so the battle begins again. This time he is not alone. In recent years he has found peace and love, with a wonderful partner and resides in idyllic, calm surroundings. I hope I can be as <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">positive</span> an influence on him as his musical influence has been on me.<br /><br />"Eddie, are you, kidding?"Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-31222544227868332532007-11-12T13:37:00.001+11:002011-01-29T11:50:43.064+11:00I Have Never Been To Paris, Nor Have I Been To Texas<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/RzhYhsdHmxI/AAAAAAAAABM/6M8oHvm_xnM/s1600-h/tape.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131949111280900882" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/RzhYhsdHmxI/AAAAAAAAABM/6M8oHvm_xnM/s320/tape.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /></a> For those interested in the full details, here is the playlist from <strong>'Yep, I Know That Feeling...'</strong> I hope you like it. And before anyone mentions it, I ripped off the quote way before Primal Scream used it. So there! They are all great songs for a road trip or relaxing and reflecting by a fire.<br /><br /><br /><br />01: <strong><span style="color: #ffff33;">Mr Bojangles</span></strong><br /><strong>Jerry Jeff Walker</strong> from the album <strong>The Best Of Jerry Jeff Walker</strong><br />02: <strong><span style="color: #ffff33;">South Of The Border</span></strong><br /><div><strong>Chris Isaak</strong> from the album <strong>Baja Sessions</strong><br />03: <span style="color: #ffff33;"><strong>Mexican Divorce</strong> </span></div><div><strong>Ry Cooder</strong> from the album <strong>Paradise And Lunch</strong><br />04: <span style="color: #ffff33;"><strong>The Gypsy's Wife</strong> </span></div><div><strong>Leonard Cohen</strong> from the album <strong>Recent Songs</strong><br />05: <strong><span style="color: #ffff33;">Gone Fishing</span></strong> </div><div><strong>Chris Rea</strong> from the album <strong>Auberge</strong><br />06:<strong> <span style="color: #ffff33;">Beside You</span></strong> </div><div><strong>Van Morrison</strong> from the album <strong>Astral Weeks</strong><br />07: <strong><span style="color: #ffff33;">Look To The East</span></strong> </div><div><strong>Steve Poltz</strong> from the album <strong>One Left Shoe</strong><br />08: <strong><span style="color: #ffff33;">It Makes No Difference</span></strong> </div><div><strong>The Band</strong> from the album <strong>Across The Great Divide</strong><br />09: <strong><span style="color: #ffff33;">Rita May</span> </strong></div><div><strong>Bob Dylan</strong> from the album <strong>Masterpieces</strong><br />10: <strong><span style="color: #ffff33;">Not The Best People</span></strong> </div><div><strong>Ry Cooder</strong> from the album <strong>Primary Colours</strong><br />11: <strong><span style="color: #ffff33;">Let's Burn Down The Cornfield</span></strong> </div><div><strong>Randy Newman</strong> from the album <strong>12 Songs</strong><br />12: <strong><span style="color: #ffff33;">L.A. Freeway</span></strong> </div><div><strong>Jerry Jeff Walker</strong> from the album <strong>The Best Of Jerry Jeff Walker</strong><br />13: <strong><span style="color: #ffff33;">Without You</span></strong> </div><div><strong>Nilsson</strong> from the album<strong> The Best Of Nilsson</strong><br />14: <strong><span style="color: #ffff33;">Came So Far For Beauty</span></strong> </div><div><strong>Leonard Cohen</strong> from the album <strong>Recent Songs</strong><br />15: <strong><span style="color: #ffff33;">My Old Man</span></strong> </div><div><strong>Jerry Jeff Walker</strong> from the album <strong>The Vanguard Years</strong><br />16: <strong><span style="color: #ffff33;">Tell Me There's A Heaven</span></strong> </div><div><strong>Chris Rea</strong> from the album <strong>The Best Of Chris Rea</strong><br />17:<strong> <span style="color: #ffff33;">Amazing Grace</span></strong> </div><div><strong>Steve Kruse</strong> from the album <strong>Jacob And Esau</strong></div>Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-14085577800762346942007-11-06T13:46:00.001+11:002011-01-29T11:47:10.793+11:00The Sounds Of The BushA couple of weeks ago I went away for a few days up bush. Fishing. Well, not really up bush. And not really fishing, either. But not in the city. In the country. Okay, okay...we stayed in a Caravan Park. But no one was in the park so it felt like we were all alone....in the middle of nowhere. Except for the cars that went by the main street that we sided onto. At least we had the mighty Goulburn River flowing not more than 10 metres away.<br /><br />We needed to pack a fair amount of gear, so I decided to take the wagon for a run. No cd player in the EB, so we had to listen Old School, to mixed tapes. Complete with dodgy tape deck, fading left to right, both, right, left, and so on. Ahhh, mixed tapes. One of my most favourite hobbies. Of course, now I have moved on to mixed cd's, or mixed playlists. But they don't have the same ring to them, the same romance, as mixed tapes do. And I have plenty of them. Some excellent ones that have stood the test of time, and have even been updated to cd, or playlists. Things like the Old Stuff series....but you'll read more about them at another time. Some of them were disatrous, such as 'Random 1st Songs.' I'd previously made up a mixed tape of the best '1st songs on the album' and thought I'd replicate the magic with randomly picking up albums and taping the 1st song....with a view to doing 'the best close of side 1' and 'the best of the last tracks' etc, etc... What a disaster!!<br /><br />So anyway, I set forth from home with my two brothers-in-law, listening to artists such as The Pogues, Van Morrison, Gordon Lightfoot, Ry Cooder, and a few other ones on mixed tapes with titles like: "Yep I Know That Feelin'..." and "This One" or "That One." The titles were very important. That's a whole posting of it's own. There's even one called, "I Don't Know What Happened Here" because what was written on the cover is not what is on the tape, and has never been put to tape. Ho hum. Like I said, so anyway, we had a great time listening to our favourite old songs, no instant skip, no programming; we just listened to each song in total, errors and all. I remember listening to Jim Croce and we were all singing along (it's Jim Croce, you cannot not sing along to it) when the tape suddenly cuts into about 5 seconds of Redgum's I Was Only Nineteen. Obviously the current tape had been taped over something else. Glorious!<br /><br />At night we listened to a selection of music that we all brought along. Mine were predominantly the Old Stuff series. Joe had a selection of cracking Irish music, and Tony had just recently made his first mixed cd. (Yes it's 2007). Remember when they found Japanese pilots shot down over the Pacific some 40 years after World War II ended, and they had been in hiding, still thinking the war was on? That's Tony. Just replace World War II with Resistance To Computers. Ah yes, a Luddite by any other name...<br /><br />Well, as it happens, either the cd's were damaged (Not Mine!) or the batteries were going flat, or the cd player didn't like burnt cd's, or the cold, or something. Whatever... We found that towards the end of the cd's the music was repeating and jumping. What were we going to do? Hell, I've been going on the "fishing" trips for more than 15 years, and most times do not even take a rod, but I have ALWAYS had music...<br /><br />It was a blessing in disguise. For we found this other dial on the portable music device. We found the radio! Not only the radio but a gem of a station shoved way, way in the back, out of the FM spotlight that spews forth what most of us accept 5 days a week. I'm talking about the excellent Upper Goulburn Community Radio <a href="http://ugfm.cute.com.au/index.php">http://ugfm.cute.com.au/index.php</a><br /><br />I can't remember all of the stuff I heard. It was more of a feeling, a vibe about being really excited about everything they play, about everything they do. I suspect that feeling resounds within most Community Radio Stations. I'm not sure what this station is like during the week, or day time hours, but, man, they entertained us whilst we sat around the camp fire, and had a few drinks, or played a bit of 500. It became a perfect counterpoint to the simmering tensions that are inevitable when you spend too much time with the same people. Our usual three days was extended to five...What were we thinking? (cue 'Insane In The Membrane')<br /><br />We heard some stuff by the Brewster Brothers (ex Angels). Melissa Etheridge did a knockout cover of a Tom Petty tune. Unheard of on most staions conscious of time, and fast time at that, UGCR even played Neil Young's new 18 minute epic, Ordinary People. But the standout, the find of the year was "Don't Dump Your Lover On The Phone" by The Pigs. Not only is this four piece band funny, but they can really play. A mixture of folk, rock, bluegrass, country, punk, you name it. And they can sing, too! Pardon my ignorance for not knowing them prior. I can just imagine what they would be like live. I'll be keeping an eye out for them. In 2008, they will definitely be on my Badger Creek playlist. Find out more about The Pigs on their website: <a href="http://www.thepigs.com.au/index.htm">http://www.thepigs.com.au/index.htm</a> I am sure it's not everyone's cup of tea. But I'm sure they don't try to be either.<br /><br />Thank you Upper Goulburn Community Radio. I'm sure I'll forget the discomfort of being rained out. I'm sure I'll forget the damn flies that attacked my bacon and eggs. I'll surely forget, at my own peril, that my brother in law is a fascist pig when it comes to playing 500. I'm sure one day I will even forget the serial killer that camped in the tent just fifty metres away, and who came and went at mysterious times (cue 'Suzanne' by Randy Newman). But, I'll never forget to tune in to 106.9 whenever I can pick up the signal.Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-6171623374972947722007-11-05T10:37:00.001+11:002011-01-29T11:47:36.263+11:00Overture<a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/Ry5YdZbOhKI/AAAAAAAAAAg/P_AmfBp0gkk/s1600-h/notes.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129134287686108322" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/Ry5YdZbOhKI/AAAAAAAAAAg/P_AmfBp0gkk/s320/notes.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /></a><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Well, here it is. For anyone that ever cared to know that The Eagles provided the harmonies on Rider In The Rain or that Big Gay Heart was an ode to Gram Parsons, then this is the website for you. It is almost universally but not quite entirely dedicated to music. And stuff. Old stuff. Probably useless stuff. My stuff. I need to empty my head of all this "stuff." So, yeah, sure, it's about music, right. But sometimes it's about other stuff, too. Stuff that music makes you think about. Or maybe stuff that music makes you forget. Or helps you forget. Now, where was I? I forgot. Oh, yeah. Music. Enjoy.</span></div>Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7526237475632016813.post-5590566161253509792007-11-05T01:56:00.000+11:002007-11-05T02:07:24.511+11:00Music Is The Best<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/Ry3fwJbOhJI/AAAAAAAAAAU/naOExt1Csj4/s1600-h/zappa2.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129001568901694610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/Ry3fwJbOhJI/AAAAAAAAAAU/naOExt1Csj4/s320/zappa2.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_2hINzXT0Ahk/Ry3fEJbOhII/AAAAAAAAAAM/n1-T0BsMMGg/s1600-h/zappa2.gif"></a></p><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Information is not <strong>KNOWLEDGE</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Knowledge is not <strong>WISDOM</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Wisdom is not <strong>TRUTH</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Truth is not <strong>BEAUTY</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Beauty is not <strong>LOVE</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Love is not <strong>MUSIC</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>MUSIC IS THE BEST</strong></span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>- FZ</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div></div>Old Stuffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11165152983986524883noreply@blogger.com0